


Saturdays (The Alarm Clock Saga)

by stardustandswimmingpools



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: (myself), ANYHOW, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, BURN IT, Bisexual Male Character, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Gay, Gay Male Character, I WROTE A THING FOR THE NEWSIES GEEKS, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Surprise Kissing, They're like college age, Vaguely Sarcastic Narrator, alarm clocks, alarm clocks as the catalyst to a relationship, and crutchie, but i love them anyhow, crutchie is such a bro guys, crutchie is the 'and peggy' of the trio, flatmates, he's just Done ok, it's gay trust me im an expert, it's very subtle, k bye, leave a comment if u notice it, not so annoying anymore are they?, or like, rating for language mostly, really ANNOYING alarm clocks, repeated checking in with crutchie, saturdays, the fact that they misspell crutchie's name makes me want to throw up, there's also one (1) dear evan hansen reference, trust me theyre DUMBASSES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Jack's alarm clock is theworst.He always turns it on, but he never wakes up when it goes off. Which, of course, leaves the task to Davey.





	

**Author's Note:**

> holy SHIT this is gay  
> after trial and error like four times, i finally wrote a half-decent good-enough-to-publish javid fanfiction, so i'm doing just that. please enjoy it lmao  
> there is one (1) reference to the show im in rn called Matchmaker but that totally doesnt matter to you guys  
> cool, that's all :D

  
“Crutchie, I'm having a bit of trouble here,” Davey hisses through the phone.

“Look, I'm kinda in a hurry —”

“Me too,” Davey says. “Jack’s alarm has been going off for three minutes and he hasn't woken up. It’s super obnoxious but I don't want to turn it off because then he won't wake up at all and he has classes this morning.”

“So wake him up,” Crutchie says in a _duh_ voice. Davey scoffs.

“You think I didn’t try? He’s like a rock. I yelled at him, and he didn’t even move.”

Crutchie snickers. “You gotta be _gentle_. He’s like a puppy. If you’re mean, he’ll curl up. You gotta act like you’s his lover or something.”

Davey is grateful for the phone as a barrier so Crutchie can’t see his blush. “What? His _lover_?”

“Nah, I’m just yankin’ your chain,” Crutchie says, laughing. “Sorta. You do need to be nice. I ain’t ashamed to say I’ve woken him with a kiss a coupla times.”

Crutchie and Jack are the gayest people Davey knows.

“So if I threw a chair at him, he wouldn’t budge, but a nice caress and he’s up and at ‘em?” Davey deadpans.

“Attaboy. Alright. I gotta go. See ya!” With that, Crutchie hangs up.

Davey storms into Jack’s room and slams his hand on the snooze button of Jack’s alarm. It shuts off, and a serenity fills the apartment. Davey sighs and sits on the mattress, where Jack’s sleeping figure has made no move to wake up.

“Jack,” he says first. “Ja-ack.” He nudges him. “Wake up. You have class. I also have class. We both have class, and I really don’t want to be late. Or for you to be late. Neither one of us should be late.”

Jack makes a sound in his sleep and rolls over, away from Davey.

“God,” he mutters. He summons his inner mother and strokes Jack’s arm. “Jack, c’mon. Get up.”

It’s almost nice, just sitting here with a sleeping Jack, who for once isn’t fixing him with that shit-eating grin or a knowing smirk or whatever.

He loses himself in thought for a minute too long, because when he blinks back to earth, Jack’s sitting up groggily, his clothes rumpled. “Hm? Davey?”

Davey clears his throat. “ _You_ slept through your alarm,” he says pointedly. “ _And_ you fell asleep in your clothes.”

Jack blinks the sleep out of his eyes and then runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “Oh,” he says. And grins. “Well, you did a good job wakin’ me up.”

“Your alarm did a good job waking _me_ up,” Davey retorts.

“Ah, you’da been up anyhow.” Jack dismisses Davey’s tone with that stupid grin.

Why does Jack get to look so _good_ in the morning? He just woke up. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes. He has no right. Davey sighs.

“I’m gonna make breakfast,” he says, standing with a final pat on Jack’s arm. “Wake up next time, yeah?”

“Alright, boss,” Jack says obediently, but the twinkle in his eye means he fully doesn’t care. Davey rolls his eyes and leaves.

Before he turns the stove on, he splashes water on his face from the sink and shakes out the image of Jack, blinking at him, doe-eyed.

* * *

The following morning is no better.

“ _Damn it,_ Jackson Kelly,” Davey grumbles as his eyes fly open, which is certainly not his name, but _Jack Kelly_ is too short a name to curse. The consistent, blaring beeps of the other boy’s alarm in the next room cuts through the nice dream he’d been having, but then again, the dream had involved said boy’s unusually and unfortunately attractive face, so maybe he’s better off without it.

It’s seven in the morning, but Davey knows for a fact that Jack doesn’t have class this morning, so why the hell is his alarm on? Davey grunts as he rolls out of bed, tugging a pair of jeans draped over his desk chair onto his legs and zipping the fly as he drags himself to Jack’s room.

There’s that Jack-sized lump, swathed by a blanket that’s curled around him, burrito-style. Davey wonders if Jack did this while he was sleeping, or what.

He groans loudly and swears one more time for good measure, and then turns off Jack’s alarm and sets about waking him up.

“Jack, get up,” he commands. “Jack, get up. Jack. Jack Kelly. Jackson Kelly. Jacqueline Kelly. Jesus Christ. Hey, those start with the same sounds. _Jack!_ ” He sits on the corner of Jack’s bedside table, watching Jack for any sign of life, and reaches out his leg to kick the sleeping boy.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters when there’s no reaction. “Is this how it’s gonna be? Really, Jack?”

It really looks like this is how it’s gonna end up being.

With a resigned sigh that he feels like he’s perfected by now, he pushes away part of the blanket that fans out from Jack’s burrito and sits on the sheet that is apparently not an ingredient in said burrito. Davey wonders whether Jack actually meant to fall asleep, or if he’d just collapsed on his bed and would wake up, eight hours later, duvet wrapped around him.

Davey tentatively reaches out, carding his fingers through Jack’s hair, which is pretty much all that’s visible of the boy. He has soft hair, and Davey busies himself flattening it from sticking up like crazy. After a good minute, he absently says, “Jack, buddy, you have to wake up.”

“Mmwhy,” comes the grunted response, so subtle that for a moment Davey doesn’t even realize that he’s _awake_ now.

He snatches his hand back like it’s been bit, suddenly aware of how strange that is, to wake up to your roommate running his hands through your hair. He’s man enough to admit that it had been _nice_ — for him — but for Jack, probably not.

“Because your alarm went off, which means you need to be up,” he says, in a rush to keep Jack from asking why he was petting him. He’s not sure he can rationalize that.

Jack squirms a bit and the head grows a neck and shoulders as he peers over to Davey, and, behind him, the clock on his bedside table. “It’s seven in the mornin’! Why’ve I gotta be up?”

“Don’t ask _me_ ,” Davey says. “You’re the one whose alarm went off. And woke me up, _again_.” He tries to sound cross, but it comes out pathetic. Jack flashes a grin.

“Aw, I musta turned it on by mistake last night. Force o’ habit, sorry, Davey,” he says apologetically. And then yawns. “Well, may ‘s well get up, hm?”

Davey rolls his eyes. “Makes no difference to me, I’m up whether or not you are.”

“If you make breakfast, I’ll get out of bed,” Jack barters. Davey laughs.

“That’s just a lose-lose situation for me! Double the cooking, _plus_ I have to deal with you.”

“Pft, you love me,” Jack says, grinning that same stupid easy-going smile. Davey rolls his eyes again.

“Whatever, I’m up now.” Jack struggles against his blanket prison for a moment before kicking it to the end of his bed, and Davey is very momentarily distracted by Jack, shirtless. _Shit_.

“W-why are you sleeping in jeans?” He manages instead, focusing very intensely on Jack’s knees, which have holes in them — not his knees, but the knees of his jeans. Jack glances down at his pants and laughs.

“Oh, I forgot to take ‘em off, I guess,” he chuckles. “I took my shirt off, though. So I only slept in half my yesterday-clothes. That’s progress, ain’t it, Davey?”

“Sure.” Davey stands up quickly. “Alright, I’ll make breakfast. Eggs?”

Jack smiles endearingly. “You know me so well.” He stretches, the muscles in his arms and shoulders growing sharper and more defined before settling again. Davey shakes his head and leaves the room before he does something ridiculous, like kiss Jack, or punch him. Maybe both at once. For being — such a _beautiful_ freaking — human being.

“Thanks!” Jack calls from his bedroom. Davey stops at the doorway of his own room, leaning against the doorframe, and closes his eyes until his pulse stops galloping like one of Race’s horses.

* * *

“Crutchie, I’m serious. This is the fifth— _sixth_ time!” Davey mutters into the receiver.

“And?”

“ _And_ , why doesn’t he just remember to turn off his alarm?”

“Got me. Jack’s a mystery.”

“But if he’s not gonna wake up to it anyway, what’s the point of even having one?”

“Maybe he likes wakin’ up to you actin’ all lovey,” Crutchie suggests. Davey can hear the taunt.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” he snaps. “Well, he’ll have to get over it, because I can’t wake him up _every morning_. What’s gonna happen when he lives on his own? How’s he ever gonna get out of bed?”

“I guess he ain’t worried about livin’ alone,” Crutchie says. “Listen, can you just get ‘im up? That alarm is annoying through the phone, and I’m in another _state_.”

Davey groans. “These phone calls really don’t help.”

“I still enjoy ‘em, though.” Davey can picture Crutchie’s warm grin. “Alright, talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead to try and lessen the migraine that’s caused from both the blaring alarm and the fact that he’s had to wake Jack up with gentle touches and hair-stroking for five mornings, going on six. “Alright, Crutchie.”

When he hears the click that indicates the other boy’s hung up, Davey sighs again.

He’s determined not to wake Jack up this time. Jack will deal with his stupid alarm clock. It’s a Saturday, for god’s sake, shouldn’t a guy get some sleep? Besides, it’s Shabbat.

He’s all set to get back in bed and regain those precious hours of sleep he would’ve gotten if not for Jack’s _damn_ alarm when it strikes him that it’s still going off. With his patented sigh of resignation, he trudges into Jack’s room, the edges of sleepiness already pulling at him.

He turns the knob to _alarm off_ , and then, against his own will, looks over at Jack. He looks so peaceful, reduced to using only the right side of the bed, his blanket folded over so it covers him twice instead of wasting it on the rest of the mattress. At least he’s wearing normal clothes for sleeping — an oversized t-shirt and, presumably, boxers, unless he got lazy again and kept his jeans on. Davey wouldn’t be surprised.

His eyes close for just a second before they open again, and he feels himself struggling to maintain consciousness. He stares down the bed for a minute, then shrugs.

“He owes me,” Davey decides, and allows himself to collapse on the bed. His head hits the extra pillow and, after only a few seconds to reflect on how this is _very bad for both his hormones and his emotions_ , he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him.

* * *

 When he wakes up, he immediately tries to fall back asleep, so blissfully comfortable that he can’t possibly imagine moving any of his limbs. His first coherent thought is _warm_. (His first thought is something that probably roughly translates to _mmmph wanna sleep_ , but it’s unfortunately incomprehensible.) Though he can feel sunlight streaming in through his window, he seals his eyes shut, insistent upon letting himself sleep. It’s Saturday, after all, isn’t it? Who cares when he’s up?

Hang on.

Davey doesn’t have a window in his room.

Also, his right arm is trapped under a very warm, dead weight.

He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight slicing between the blinds. Jack is laying on Davey’s arm, the curve of his elbow acting as a pillow to Jack’s head — and their fingers are intertwined. For fuck’s sake.

Well, now there's no way he's getting his pulse back to normal. Not after skyrocketing like it's doing now. Davey swears himself out mentally for considering this a “good idea”.

Jack is still asleep, though. Davey can go and Jack won’t know he was ever even here. He might have some ghost of a feeling, maybe he’ll think he dreamt it, but anything to salvage this fragile situation.

Davey spreads out his palm, forcing his fingers to unlock from Jack’s, which is like a slam to the gut. How many times has he pictured this?

Of course, in his mind it's consensual, and also they're in a relationship. So this is a little different.

He extricates his arm from underneath Jack’s head, and then tucks it to his own chest. He...doesn't want to get up.

By all logic, and all rational thought, he should get up — and never ever do this again.

But _god_ , Jack is so warm and comfortable, and it's _Saturday_. And Jack’s not awake yet anyway.

Davey has no idea what time it is — he’d forgotten to put his watch on after he’d woken up, and his back is facing the clock right now.

It doesn't really matter. Davey closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

Just before he falls asleep for the second time — is there some sleeping draught in the mattress? No wonder Jack never wakes up to his alarm — he feels his head slide down to rest instead on the back of Jack’s t-shirt.

Oh, well. Blame it on the nap.

* * *

 The second time he regains consciousness, eyes fluttering open reluctantly, Jack’s face is _veryclose_ to his. He hears a hushed, “Davey, wakey wakey,” just before their eyes meet.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Jack says, with that impossible smile.

Davey blinks, feeling very much the way Jack must have on that first morning, like a deer in headlights. “Morning?”

“I’m playin’ ya, it’s three in the afternoon,” Jack says. He’s propped up on his left elbow to face Davey, and must be able to see the clock. Davey doesn’t have it in him to roll over and check the time.

“Oh.”

Maybe it’s the post-sleep drowsiness, but he can’t physically find it in himself to care that he just woke up in Jack Kelly’s bed, and subsequent reactions. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, anyway.

His pulse is still irregularly fast, but there’s no remedying that.

“You’re always generous enough to wake me,” Jack says, a sparkle in his eyes. “Figured I oughta return the favor. Have a good nap?”

“Sorry,” Davey finally says. He sits up, shaking the sleep out of his eyes and running a hand through his hair to tease it into being presentable. “I didn’t really mean to fall asleep in your bed, for so long, it’s just — your alarm went off and it seriously pissed me off, I mean, it’s _Saturday_ , so why —”

Jack’s grinning. Why is Jack grinning?

“You’re so predictable,” he interrupts Davey, mid-ramble.

Davey frowns. “Predictable?”

“Yeah, like… if I set my alarm, you’s gonna wake me up. Even if it’s Saturday.” Jack tilts his head, examining Davey. “Even though a week ago you told me to not set it if I ain’t gonna get up to it.”

“Yeah, and you shouldn’t,” Davey begins.

“But every time I do, you wake me up all,” Jack’s voice drops to a whisper, “ _Jack, wake up,_ with your hands in my hair or whatever.” He smiles sheepishly. “Sue me, it’s nice.”

Davey flushes red. “I — that’s not — I think you’re misinterpreting why — Crutchie told me that was the way to wake you up,” he manages.

Jack chuckles. “Crutchie knows me too good, that’s what. Yeah, well, it sure is nice if it’s gonna be _you_ wakin’ me up like that every mornin’.”

This is — unexpected.

“Don’t be stupid,” Davey mumbles.

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Stupid?”

“I mean…” Davey gestures vaguely with his free hand, the one that’s not propping him up. “Don’t, like, act like that. Flirty and cutesy — Jack-like. Like you _like_ me.”

“Why not?”

“False hope is unbecoming,” Davey says, and immediately regrets it, just like pretty much every other decision he’s made today. Saturdays, man. They mess with your head.

Especially when your head is on the pillow of your roommate who’s also your longtime crush and best friend.

“False hope?” Jack’s eyebrows draw together in what Davey desperately hopes _isn’t_ his thinking face, even though he knows it is. And he also knows that Jack’s not stupid, and he knows that two and two is four, and always has been. _Shit_.

“Yeah, like — no, that’s not what — I didn’t mean — I didn’t mean like _hope_ , like —”

“Davey, shut up a minute, would you?”

“No, I think you just misunderstood what I said — see, I didn’t, I wasn’t, I wasn’t saying false hope like that was — like I had hope in the first place anyway — and I was just —”

“Davey, shut your mouth, Jesus.”

“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea — I don’t — _didn’t_ mean false hope like that —”

“For Christ’s sake, Davey!”

“Well I’m just —”

He’s abruptly cut off when Jack presses his lips against Davey’s, once, quickly, and then pulls away, and — how dare he sigh like that, that’s Davey’s patented sigh, and _holy fucking shit that was Jack Kelly and he just kissed me_.

“Man, I’m starting to remember why them boys and me called you the Walking Mouth,” Jack chastises.

Davey instinctively reaches up, touching two fingers to his lips. He can feel the blood rushing to his face, turning it from light pink to scarlet to a deep crimson shade, and his eyes widening, but, well, okay, what is he supposed to do here? Did Jack do that on purpose?

Dumb question. Obviously you don’t kiss someone by _accident_. But he can’t — there’s no way —

“You look like you’s a computer with a frozen hard drive,” Jack says, smiling uncertainly. “Everything okay?”

“You mean _besides_ the fact that you just _kissed_ me? Grand,” Davey says, regaining his voice. Did that come out too harsh? Almost definitely.

Jack’s face falls remarkably fast. “Yeah, my bad, shouldn’ta did that. Sorry, Davey, you was talkin’ so much and I couldn’t help it. How come you —”

“No, it wasn’t — it wasn’t that I didn’t _want_ you to,” Davey says quickly, even though, wow, is it possible he’s turning even more red? The blush creeps down his neck now. “I wasn’t expecting it, but I still _enjoyed_ it. You just — took me by surprise.”

Jack’s eyes — actually, his whole face lights up. There’s a sharp sort of pang on the left side of Davey’s chest — _your heart_ , his brain supplies — at the look on Jack’s face.

“You enjoyed it?” he repeats. Davey pretty much can’t really believe he’s having this conversation.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “You have no idea.”

“Thank god,” Jack breathes. “Can I do it again then? ‘Cause I got a lot of lost time to make up.”

Davey’s pulse is definitely thumping out a drum beat by now, but for the first time, well, who cares?

“Please.”

* * *

At three forty-five, Davey pulls away, all bruised lips and mussed up hair, to gasp out, “Jack, we can’t just — lay in bed all day making out.”

Jack smiles wickedly. “Why not? It’s _Saturday_ , Davey.” He steals another kiss, and Davey’s resolve melts away like butter. “Besides, we got a lot to make up for.”

  


 

 

 

 

**\+ Bonus:**

“So,” Davey says slowly on Sunday, “there have been some interesting developments.”

“I’m all ears,” Crutchie responds through the phone. “Well, I’m half ears. I’m also in the middle of a piano lesson, but everything’s relative.”

“Jack and I are now an official couple.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised, Davey.”

“Do I owe that to you and your shitty advice?”

“Most likely.”

“Well, thanks, then, Crutch.”

“I do what I can,” Crutchie says.

“You busy?”

“Right now? Yeah. But you bet your ass I’m coming down to visit you two lovebirds just as soon as I get done with this lesson.”

Davey chuckles. “Can’t wait.”

“Just keep your hands to yourself when I’m around, ya hear?”

“ _Crutchie!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> jack is a bisexual trust me on this  
> anyhow thank u for reading! i hope u liked having crutchie's little moments bc they were fun to write BLAH BLAH i'm on tumblr @vivilevone or @justcuzfandoms if you wanna find me! (or, my deh blog, which occasionally features newsies, @do-you-ever-really-crash). Bye!


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